He ran.
His legs pumped, smoothly, his eyes blocked almost completely by the thick band of leather over them. It wasn't a problem, however - he was never going to need to see again anyway. He knew that no matter how fast he ran, he wasn't going to make it, and he slowed down fractionally, feeling a tight constriction around his waist as a large vine picked him up. Before he could lose consciousness, he threw the piece of vellum in his hand, watching it bounce on the ground before his lover, nimbler and smaller than him, caught it, turning back.
Endlessly turquoise eyes caught his for a moment before he yelled, hoping that the boy would hear him and listen.
He felt a terrible cold cover him, and suddenly there was nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was his leather band, which slipped indignantly over his eyes.
The second thing he saw was Marcus, his eyes stooped, his whole body stooped. Blank fell, his feet securely hitting the ground. He opened and closed his hands, then stretched, thinking, Then this is what it's like to come back from the dead.
He looked around, expecting to see Zidane, his tail wagging in the air happily and his playful smile taking up most of his face. He expected at least one lonely little kiss, one hug, one smile.
There was no one else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had seen Dagger, that dame that had stolen his lover return, he had seen her clearly broken heart - as broken as his had been when he found out that Zidane had left him, left him for real this time, not just for some bar wench who would distract him for a few days before he came crawling back, his tail literally between his legs.
He watched as she became queen; he had been invited to the coronation but he did not want to go. He just wanted to stay at home, without anyone, until he died. He had found out what had happened to Zidane, and his heart froze.
Finally, a few months later, he moved out to a house near the sea. He moved away - since the mist had receded, people had been moving out toward the sea, and he, just like anyone with any sense of adventure and a need to leave civilization behind would do.
It happened after he had been living alone for almost two months, right when the tomatoes in his garden were turning ripe. He was alone in the back, wearing comfortable cotton breeches and no shirt, the thick belt over his eyes to protect them from the sun. He had never thought that he would settle down so neatly - he had always pictured himself with Tantulus forever, stealing and acting, all in the same breath.
He had taken up gardening as a necessity - he would go hunting occasionally, bringing in the rare chocobo or the equally delicious bi- horn, living off the land. It annoyed him to no extent, but he didn't want to go back to the city and have to see Dagger rule, crying because she had lost Zidane.
Well guess what, broad, I lost him too.
It was then that he heard a knock at the door, a banging and a cry of, "Help, please! C'mon, I know that someone is in there!"
Blank stood up and pursed his lips in annoyance. He had moved out here to be a hermit, and as far as he knew, hermits did not want to be bothered. But he moved to the door anyway, the tenor voice sounding familiar.
He opened the door and found himself staring into a pair of endlessly turquoise eyes, a pair of eyes that he had known very well. He lifted his belt and saw Zidane's small, adorable face in agony, his eyes pleading, a smudge of brown over his nose and down to his mouth.
"Blank?" He asked, and it was then that Blank realized that Zidane was not alone. Under his arm was a man - a man with muddied silver hair, with dirty, ripped clothes, a man that looked like he was on his last leg. Zidane looked back up. "Can we come in? Please?"
Blank nodded dumbly, opening the door all the way and letting the two weary men into his house. Zidane helped the man to the couch, were he lay him on the shabby brown blanket that Blank had acquired for free from two tavern girls in Treno, saying to the man, "You'll be okay, he's my friend, I promise."
Zidane looked up at Blank, who didn't say a word. His eyes begged, and finally he pleaded, "Do you have some water? Something to eat, please? I'm sorry for barging in on you like this.but."
Blank shook his head and instead walked outside to his little well, drawing a bucket of clean water and then to his garden where he picked the two ripest tomatoes. He walked back inside, handed the items to Zidane and watched him consume them with vigor.
"So.where did you go?" Blank finally asked when he realized that Zidane was done with his half-fast meal. He sat down and stared at the other man, who was asleep, his hands curled around his chest.
"We were in the Lost Continent for so long.we went to his palace - lived there for a little while because he needed to heal. But I started to get antsy.you know I don't like to be fixed in one place at once - and I wanted to leave. But I didn't want to go without him and leave him alone. See, he needed me to help him, to heal him. So finally we left, came here." Zidane took a swig of water then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand quickly, then continued, "But we got attacked by a Malboro. He cast all these spells, but he wasn't the same after the whole mess at the Iifa Tree and the Malboro poisoned him."
Blank didn't ask any questions, even though he wanted to. He wanted to know what had happened at the Iifa Tree, who this strange, pale man was, why he needed to heal and why Zidane was the one who had to do that job.
After a few moments of silence, Blank asked softly, "Who is he?"
Zidane didn't answer right away, and finally a strained voice murmured, "He's.my brother."
Blank paused, his thinking halted. "Your.brother?" He laughed, out loud, once, then shook his head. "You don't have a brother, Zidane, remember?"
Zidane looked furious, his eyebrows crashing together violently as he quickly spat out the words, "Look, he's my brother, okay? And now he's hurt bad - it shouldn't matter if he was a justice, I'd still want to help him!"
Blank bit his tongue gently; he had forgotten how Zidane could get volatile when defending what he thought was right. He made gentle shushing motions with his hands and sighed, his voice demure, "Okay, okay. Look, I never said I wouldn't help him out. I'm just saying that I thought you were an orphan." He gave the man an easy glance-over and nodded. "I'll help him get better, if you want. You're going to head to Treno, right? To see your dame?"
Zidane nodded, then asked, "Do you know how Dagger - I mean, Garnet, is? Have you heard from her?"
Blank shook his head, biting his tongue again, this time to prevent something bitter from coming out.
Zidane looked down, bit his tongue nervously and mumbled, "Can I leave him here with you? I need to get to Treno.I want to get there soon."
Blank sighed, shrugged and nodded finally, unable to refuse Zidane's turquoise eyes as they begged, saying that he was desperate to see her again. He slid his belt over his eyes, so that Zidane wouldn't see the sadness there.
His legs pumped, smoothly, his eyes blocked almost completely by the thick band of leather over them. It wasn't a problem, however - he was never going to need to see again anyway. He knew that no matter how fast he ran, he wasn't going to make it, and he slowed down fractionally, feeling a tight constriction around his waist as a large vine picked him up. Before he could lose consciousness, he threw the piece of vellum in his hand, watching it bounce on the ground before his lover, nimbler and smaller than him, caught it, turning back.
Endlessly turquoise eyes caught his for a moment before he yelled, hoping that the boy would hear him and listen.
He felt a terrible cold cover him, and suddenly there was nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was his leather band, which slipped indignantly over his eyes.
The second thing he saw was Marcus, his eyes stooped, his whole body stooped. Blank fell, his feet securely hitting the ground. He opened and closed his hands, then stretched, thinking, Then this is what it's like to come back from the dead.
He looked around, expecting to see Zidane, his tail wagging in the air happily and his playful smile taking up most of his face. He expected at least one lonely little kiss, one hug, one smile.
There was no one else.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had seen Dagger, that dame that had stolen his lover return, he had seen her clearly broken heart - as broken as his had been when he found out that Zidane had left him, left him for real this time, not just for some bar wench who would distract him for a few days before he came crawling back, his tail literally between his legs.
He watched as she became queen; he had been invited to the coronation but he did not want to go. He just wanted to stay at home, without anyone, until he died. He had found out what had happened to Zidane, and his heart froze.
Finally, a few months later, he moved out to a house near the sea. He moved away - since the mist had receded, people had been moving out toward the sea, and he, just like anyone with any sense of adventure and a need to leave civilization behind would do.
It happened after he had been living alone for almost two months, right when the tomatoes in his garden were turning ripe. He was alone in the back, wearing comfortable cotton breeches and no shirt, the thick belt over his eyes to protect them from the sun. He had never thought that he would settle down so neatly - he had always pictured himself with Tantulus forever, stealing and acting, all in the same breath.
He had taken up gardening as a necessity - he would go hunting occasionally, bringing in the rare chocobo or the equally delicious bi- horn, living off the land. It annoyed him to no extent, but he didn't want to go back to the city and have to see Dagger rule, crying because she had lost Zidane.
Well guess what, broad, I lost him too.
It was then that he heard a knock at the door, a banging and a cry of, "Help, please! C'mon, I know that someone is in there!"
Blank stood up and pursed his lips in annoyance. He had moved out here to be a hermit, and as far as he knew, hermits did not want to be bothered. But he moved to the door anyway, the tenor voice sounding familiar.
He opened the door and found himself staring into a pair of endlessly turquoise eyes, a pair of eyes that he had known very well. He lifted his belt and saw Zidane's small, adorable face in agony, his eyes pleading, a smudge of brown over his nose and down to his mouth.
"Blank?" He asked, and it was then that Blank realized that Zidane was not alone. Under his arm was a man - a man with muddied silver hair, with dirty, ripped clothes, a man that looked like he was on his last leg. Zidane looked back up. "Can we come in? Please?"
Blank nodded dumbly, opening the door all the way and letting the two weary men into his house. Zidane helped the man to the couch, were he lay him on the shabby brown blanket that Blank had acquired for free from two tavern girls in Treno, saying to the man, "You'll be okay, he's my friend, I promise."
Zidane looked up at Blank, who didn't say a word. His eyes begged, and finally he pleaded, "Do you have some water? Something to eat, please? I'm sorry for barging in on you like this.but."
Blank shook his head and instead walked outside to his little well, drawing a bucket of clean water and then to his garden where he picked the two ripest tomatoes. He walked back inside, handed the items to Zidane and watched him consume them with vigor.
"So.where did you go?" Blank finally asked when he realized that Zidane was done with his half-fast meal. He sat down and stared at the other man, who was asleep, his hands curled around his chest.
"We were in the Lost Continent for so long.we went to his palace - lived there for a little while because he needed to heal. But I started to get antsy.you know I don't like to be fixed in one place at once - and I wanted to leave. But I didn't want to go without him and leave him alone. See, he needed me to help him, to heal him. So finally we left, came here." Zidane took a swig of water then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand quickly, then continued, "But we got attacked by a Malboro. He cast all these spells, but he wasn't the same after the whole mess at the Iifa Tree and the Malboro poisoned him."
Blank didn't ask any questions, even though he wanted to. He wanted to know what had happened at the Iifa Tree, who this strange, pale man was, why he needed to heal and why Zidane was the one who had to do that job.
After a few moments of silence, Blank asked softly, "Who is he?"
Zidane didn't answer right away, and finally a strained voice murmured, "He's.my brother."
Blank paused, his thinking halted. "Your.brother?" He laughed, out loud, once, then shook his head. "You don't have a brother, Zidane, remember?"
Zidane looked furious, his eyebrows crashing together violently as he quickly spat out the words, "Look, he's my brother, okay? And now he's hurt bad - it shouldn't matter if he was a justice, I'd still want to help him!"
Blank bit his tongue gently; he had forgotten how Zidane could get volatile when defending what he thought was right. He made gentle shushing motions with his hands and sighed, his voice demure, "Okay, okay. Look, I never said I wouldn't help him out. I'm just saying that I thought you were an orphan." He gave the man an easy glance-over and nodded. "I'll help him get better, if you want. You're going to head to Treno, right? To see your dame?"
Zidane nodded, then asked, "Do you know how Dagger - I mean, Garnet, is? Have you heard from her?"
Blank shook his head, biting his tongue again, this time to prevent something bitter from coming out.
Zidane looked down, bit his tongue nervously and mumbled, "Can I leave him here with you? I need to get to Treno.I want to get there soon."
Blank sighed, shrugged and nodded finally, unable to refuse Zidane's turquoise eyes as they begged, saying that he was desperate to see her again. He slid his belt over his eyes, so that Zidane wouldn't see the sadness there.